


Dreaming Costs Money

by dogeatdogwrld



Category: OMORI (Video Game)
Genre: Boys In Love, Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, MEGA SPOILERS, marked mature for heavy subject matter, they r just kissing but, yea.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:47:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28440087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dogeatdogwrld/pseuds/dogeatdogwrld
Summary: I can still smell the fireThough I know it's long died outThe smoke still hangs in my hairAnd on some quiet evenings it burns my eyes
Relationships: Sunny/Basil (OMORI)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 160





	Dreaming Costs Money

**Author's Note:**

> title is literally a mitski song.... wanted to capture that gay sorrowful emotion that i felt while writing this.
> 
> spoilers can apply to those who haven’t gotten to “three days left” in the story! if you aren’t there yet, id recommend turning away from this one, lol.
> 
> otherwise, plz enjoy!! plz leave kudos r comments, they r much appreciated 🥺
> 
> (follow me on twit @SIXTYGRUBS)

“Sunny, Sunny-“

A plea comes like a cursed mantra against the lips of the younger teen, lethal in all it’s meaning, yet dripping in a similar anti-venom that honey might bring to a dying man. 

Skinny, shaking fingers are taut within midnight dark locks, tugging and pulling in a sort of desperation. He can’t remember how thin they were last time, or if he wasn’t paying attention, but something doesn’t feel right. It could be that he sees himself in the other boy, or his current hypervigilance in such a vulnerable moment. Either way, he knows that deep down, his hunger boils, his own lithe frame finding itself fitting like a puzzle piece against his blonde counterpart.

“B-Basil-“

Sunny is gasping for air, lungs struggling to pull in any kind of oxygen. His brain is fried, and whatever words Basil is cooing and coddling him with, sounds as though the two are underwater. He can feel the other shift against him, pushing him deeper into the plush surface, that of a bed, messed since the two lay on it for what has felt like hours. The passage of time isn’t real when the two do this. This is the last time, the last time for a while, that they know that they will get to do this again.

The teen is snaking his fingers around Basil’s strung up wrist, gaze shooting to look at the other teen hovering over him; he doesn’t realize he’s doing it, but he can feel him wince underneath his python-esq grip, comparable to that of prey and predator. Orbs shoot to where his hands rest, watching as his clasp does nothing more than get tighter. He can feel his pulse, they race the same, pump the same blood that Sunny knows rests within his own veins, human and warm. He can feel every valley and slice within pale skin, old and fresh alike. He knows that’s part his fault, his fault for-

Basil is struggling against him, shaking and only able to squeak out a consistent plea to set him free, voice raw and shaking. Pupils are shooting back up to look harshly against the blonde’s rather sunken features, seemingly much too old for his age of seventeen; he’s searching, searching for some kind of emotion within the raven-haired teen’s features. He knows there’s nothing, nothing of note, nothing at all. He misses it, misses it so bad. He’s let go without another foreword, and he swears for a second he can see the remorse on Sunny’s face, a silent apology that the two happen to share. 

It’s torn to shreds as soon as the blonde is finding his aching digits, calloused palms, and what feels like every amount of force from his underweight form pressing down into the boy below him, almost as a sort of faux trap to keep him at bay. Fingers are tied against wrist, pressing into Sunny’s very own scarred flesh, much more abundant than Basil’s own, exposed out into the freezing open of the packed up room, space littered with boxes and dust. The fire in both of their hearts seems to collide together, and like a telepathic connection, come to a thrilling crechendo.

It’s animalistic in nature, lips and teeth finally colliding back together, pressing and pulling on pillowy flesh. The heat is unbearable between the two, and the more weight that’s shifted and rolled against either of their frames, the more desperate every single second becomes.

Sunny wants to bring his hands up to cup the back of the blonde’s head, to feel the similar latch onto unkempt locks as to his own just moments prior, mirroring his very own being. He knows he can’t do that, still trapped within each weak push against Basil’s very own grasp, weak from purposeful malnourishment from days on end.  
He’s a monster. He knows he is, he knows his existence is wrong, knows that the other’s time would be better spent somewhere else. Somewhere other than here; somewhere other than having his tongue colliding with his own.

“Sunny, Sunny, o-oh Sunny-“

Basil begins to plea again, voice cracking as he pulls back to look and search for something, anything. Hot tears pour from his ducts, features contorted into that of a grimace as he begins to sob; his grip only gets tighter against the poor soul below him, almost as if as though if he lets go, he’ll fly away to where he can’t reach him. He snivels, weak form shaking with each and every harsh inhale in from his nose. 

“Please, I-“ the raven-haired teen is struggling to raise his voice, quiet in for all its worth. He only wants Basil to hear it, only wants to be the only one to coo to him in times like these.  
Only him, no one else. Only Sunny. Just Sunny. 

“Please, don’t go. For the love of God, dont leave me alone again. Let’s just-“ There’s a harsh swallow that only brings silence for what feels like minutes, hours, days. “- have this. Just th-this last time.” 

Sunny wishes his heart could just succumb.


End file.
